So there were great things that happened on my three days off.

Both of my kids and the friend joined me for dinner Thursday. That was a great thing.

The Packers won and Brett was Brett, and that was sensational.

Both kids and the friend commented that I seemed way less flustered than usual as I was getting the dinner to the table.

Actually, Thursday was a breeze compared to Wednesday. The whole time I worked in the kitchen on Wednesday I was thinking that we should just have brats and beer while the game was on.

But I had all of this food and there was no other time over the weekend when we could all be together.

So in a fit of shame, I raced to the chaotic store on Wednesday afternoon and bought brats to serve as hors d'oeuvres. Mouse slept through them and Skinny Son wasn't there yet.

"Nobody told me there would be brats," he said sadly.

I timed dinner so that I wouldn't have to be in the kitchen much during the game and that part worked perfectly.

Unlike last year, there were no mishaps with the food. I burned my arm once because my oven door doesn't open all of the way and I wasn't dexterous enough to lean over it, apparently.

And I cut myself just once, arriving in the living room bleeding and asking Mouse if she knew if we had any Band-Aids. I really just got a little hole in my thumb as I was digging around in a drawer, and it was no big deal once I found a Band-Aid.

Erma Bombeck once wrote that Thanksgiving takes four days to make and 12 minutes to eat. Happily, the crew stayed at the table longer than 12 minutes, perhaps because the Cowboys-Jets game was so uninspiring.

We actually had conversation at the table and both kids even participated.

In a former life, Friday was always decorating day at the house.

Now, however, I knew that Mouse would be working and Skinny Son would be doing things he wanted to do on a rare day off.

So I hadn't planned on decorating and thought that it would just happen another time.

During dinner on Thursday, the friend asked about it, and seemed to assume that his help would be required. Mouse assumed that she would do the tree for me. Skinny Son assumed that he would be in charge of outdoor lights.

So like something straight out of a Disney movie, with Tinkerbell sprinkling her magic wand over the glistening letters, it happened.

The friend hauled armloads of books to the basement so I could use the bookshelves for my village. I rearranged furniture and vacuumed each newly empty spot.

When Mouse got home from work, she started the tree. While she was doing the tree and I was doing the village, I said, "you know, even when you leave home, you have to come back and do the tree."

And she said that she would.

And that was a great thing.

Community News editor Sally Ann Shurmur can be reached at (307) 266-0520; sally.shurmur@trib.com or see her profile and blog at my.trib.com/Sal/blog.